I want to say “Thank You!” to my readers who tuned in yesterday to read the gripping and passionate first chapter of my entry in Edward Hotspur’s Romantic Monday. For those of you who missed it, please click here for Chapter 1 of The Bonfire Effect. Chapter 2 is ready to post, and it’s even more thrilling, romantical and dorkalicious than the first. It has curdled milk, a drooling idiot and a hickey!

Since I can’t post that until next Monday, and since writing and reading all of this mushy crap has put me in an amorous mood, I thought here for the first time in Cheekydivaville, I–yes me–will write a poem. A poem about love. A poem that doesn’t rhyme. A poem that isn’t very good. In fact, I’m pretty sure it will be total crap. Yay!!!! But it will be from my heart, so before you post those nasty comments about how awful it is, remember that sometimes you just can’t help yourself, and you gotta do it.

I know you think it’s funny when I need a step ladder to get the potato chips

That’s okay, I don’t mind that you put them where I can’t reach them

I appreciate a man who puts away the groceries

A man who’s big and tall enough to scoop me up and protect me from the big bad world

Um no, this actually happened last Tuesday night after dinner, except I substituted chips for a can of coffee. My husband is 6 foot 5 and I’m 5 foot 2 and he puts all the good stuff where I can’t reach it. Ha ha. That’ll teach him. I’ll write a poem about him when he does stuff like that.

Laughing is good. Laughing’s my favorite. I don’t recommend watching Pineapple Express right after a hysterectomy though. My teenagers were trying to cheer me up. I thought I would DIE laughing that day. So glad you like my fine art …..pppffffttt!